Children of the Star
by AdaSonata
Summary: Searching for the truth behind myths and legends wasn't an easy job. Interpretation was not the best tool to decipher long lost cyphers and stories. But as Nigel and Sydney delve deeper in to this particular legend, personal interpretation is likely the only thing that might save their lives.
1. Prologue & Prelude

**Children of the Star**

 **Summary:** Searching for the truth behind myths and legends wasn't an easy job. Interpretation was not the best tool to decipher long lost cyphers and stories. But as Nigel and Sydney delve deeper in to this particular legend, personal interpretation is likely the only thing that might save their lives.

 **Disclaimer:** This is a fan-fiction story of the TV show; Relic Hunter, and is in no way affiliated with the actual show. All characters and other materials related to the show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant. However, any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0 as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.

 **Authors Note:** I felt nostalgic; revisited an old idea; dusted off the creative gears; and found myself with this.

Let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any constructive criticism to make please do it _politely_. There's no reason to be rude and insulting when you disagree or don't like other's works of fiction.

* * *

 **Pre-face**

 _Atlantis (est._ _2600 and 1550 BC)_

Alethea Kyero; Royal Princess and Heir to the Kingdom of Atlantis. She had been named after the Great God of the Seekers; Kynigos and the Saint of Knowledge and Truth: Alitheias. She'd been named after her curiosity and perseverance had made itself known in abundance when she was a youngling, before that she had been Neosa; The Royal Young One.

It was a heavy title to wear. She almost resented it. Her spirit, her ambition had become her curse and she knew the risks would be great but her longing for the outside world, the longing for her namesake intention was too great a call to resist. Her father would be angry, disappointed, upset even but he had plenty of sons and daughters to take her place as heir. The Gods had decided she was eligible, but they had named her older brother, Dikaios as also eligible. It had been down to public vote as to which of the two God-chosen would lead them after her father. The people had chosen her.

Her father had bode the omen as a fair but inaccurate judgement of the Gods and their meanings for those they'd marked. He knew she was a fiery spirit and needed her freedom. To rule meant a lot of stability and role fitting. Keeping her cooped inside the palaces of Atlantis was too much for her world sized reach to hold back. One could never tame the wind or seas, one could only ride their whims to a destination only fate could determine.

Her decision had been made. All she had to do now was cast off her boat and say her final silent farewells. She knew that going to the mainland, to Athens was a big leap of faith. The man she'd fallen in love with was mortal and thus their love was forbidden. She knew that if she ever copulated with a mortal man, she'd lose her longevity and would age as the humans do. She'd be vulnerable. She needed something that would sustain her while she was weak. She tightened the strap of the most mundane satchel she could find, inside was a piece of the star of Atlantis.

The Star of Atlantis was a giant rock-like mass of a strange material they'd never understood. It glowed like the sky and the sea and it was believed that this was the magical energy of the heavens and had been given to the Atlanteans for their favours and advanced spiritual progression by the Gods. It had been the method of the markings, the choosing of the Gods. One's hand was place against the star, a short prayer said and most of the time nothing happened, but for the rare few; a destiny was carved upon the star and transferred to the child being named. The star readers had long since lost their knowledge to accurately interpret the meanings of the markings, but they had their experience and patterns to draw from. They'd told Alethea that she'd been marked for greatness by the Star and even still the mark was dark and bold against her pale skin it had not dulled with her stray from her father's heritage and the passing of the crown.

But lately, the Star had been crumbling to nothing. Pieces of it were constantly found at its base and while everything was being done to curry favour with the Gods again, it seemed that they were not in a forgiving mood. Unsure of what transgression the Atlantean people had transposed, her father had forbidden any natives to leave the isle. Their repentance had begun in earnest and while she could understand her father's reasons; her desire, her ambitions, and her love were not in the same location as her father's love for her. The tug of the outside world called strong and clear to her. She knew that to save her people from the full wrath of the Gods and to save her own destiny, she would need to heed the calls of her heart and her namesake.

So, believing that the Gods would not have given her such a strong desire without the need for her to follow it, and believing that the Gods would not want a daughter of the wind and sea to be in danger, she took a fragment of the Star and made plans to meet her beloved in Kithira.

Little did she know the impact this would have on the events that were to follow.

* * *

 **Prologue**

London, (Present day)

The Gentlemen's club had really outdone itself this time. It had been quite the flurry of activities and entertainment and Preston Bailey had thoroughly enjoyed his time spent there. The evening had proven worth the outing.

The gala had been put on to raise money for the nation's much beloved charity fund raiser, Children in Need and with the comedy, the exotic dances and the plethora of daring acrobatics, the club had certainly garnered the attentions of some of the higher spectrum of the upper-class societies and had successfully persuaded them to part ways with a significant amount in donations. Preston felt practically giddy with pride at his achievement for which he'd been receiving praises from nearly everyone in attendance. His event planning skills were second to none when it came to planning entertainment for the upper-class British society and he knew it.

But the hour had turned very late – or early depending on which side of midnight you found yourself on – and though he had wished to stay longer, he did in fact have a busy morning to follow such a massive success. The Curator was prepping a new wing in the museum and as the head overseer, it was Preston's job to manage the plans and set up for the new wing.

So, being careful not to fall between the lines of sobriety, Preston had kept his glass mostly full all night in order toward off any unnecessary drink buying on his behalf and had managed to keep his head where it should be and not floating away in drunken clouds of inebriation.

With all his guests taken care of, he left the clean up to those who were paid to do the job and headed out into the brisk night air. He was in a jubilant spirit and the night was a beautiful one. As he was staying in a hotel only a few streets away, he decided that the walk would be a pleasant addition to an already amazing evening. He set off at a leisurely and relaxed pace.

"Mr Bailey." The feminine voice was unexpected and Preston barely contained the surprise he felt when he heard it say his name in such an urgent and serious tone. He turned to face his interruption and found his gaze fall upon a trio of people who had appeared behind him. "We need your help."

There was a tingle of fear that crept up his spine at the foreboding triplet stood before his person. He couldn't quite place the peculiar feeling, just that he felt uneasy around the strangers. It was an odd sensation. "I can't help you if you're after directions ma'am, I'm hopeless with them myself." He said with a faux air of confidence and hoped they'd back off but she was persistent.

"I don't believe you think we're after directions Mr Bailey. I called you by your name." She said stepping slightly forward but stopping when he turned to her again. "I won't beguile your intelligence, so do me the honour of respecting mine." This made him pause a little. He was unsure of this whole encounter and was beginning to wonder if he'd have need of help were he to insult these people further.

"Fine. But I'll be frankly honest with you." Preston began bluntly as he turned fully to acknowledge his conversational partners and would-be accosters. "Your entire outfit is very alarming and off-putting. If you wish to garner my attention conversationally, I'd recommend you use a different approach." He said, he wasn't prepared to be bullied into a conversation with people who were clearly pulling the intimidation card. "If you wish to speak with me, speak. I'll not be caught consorting with strangers in the night for long." He added impatiently.

The female figure stepped forward once more and stopped a few feet away from Preston, she pulled her hood back only slightly so that he could see her face but any accidental passer's by would see only shadows. "I need to ask you about your mother." She said, her voice soft now that she was closer. "And of a stone she may have kept secret." She added mysteriously. Preston frowned in confusion. He could hardly remember his mother with any stone. Sure she'd owned expensive jewellery, and the stones in them were quite precious but he got the feeling that trinkets of the feminine artistry were not what this group of people were vested in. He answered honestly.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. My mother had a lot of trinkets and baubles but nothing that really stands out as something needing to be kept secret. She wore them all, favoured the one she was buried in but it was a semi-precious stone that one can definitely purchase today." He said. He wasn't sure why he was being informational with her, but it felt like the right thing to say in order to portray his honesty to her. He really didn't know of any secret stone his mother would be involved with. "Now if you're done with your miniature Spanish inquisition, I have an early morning tomorrow and not enough night left to prepare for it." He dismissed the conversation with a nod, "Good night miss, and goodnight gentlemen." He bid them and turned to walk off with an accelerated gait.

They didn't follow.

He mulled over the strange encounter and suddenly realised why he'd found it strange. She'd had an American accent.

That prompted another thought; Nigel.

His younger brother was living in America and if these people had found Preston all the way here in England, then his baby brother was probably on their radar too. Especially since Nigel's and their mother's relationship had been a tight one. Preston had been closer to their father in that respect.

On a whim, and maybe because he was still feeling a little more charitable than usual despite the odd encounter, he flipped out his smart phone and tapped out a text to his brother's number. The name of which he'd saved as 'Podge' so as to annoy the younger man if he ever saw it – he admitted it was a boyish prank but couldn't seem to bring himself to change it. Sentimentality, and all that. The message was vague and held no urgency, but he was sure it would benefit the younger man if he was similarly accosted by inquisitors of his mother's secrets. No one liked to be surprised with personal questions and his little brother was a sensitive lad at best.

Message sent, good deed done, and a new spring in his step at his own gracious nature; Preston continued to the hotel and stepped inside the foyer.

And that was when all hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter One

**Children of the Star**

 **Summary:** Searching for the truth behind myths and legends wasn't an easy job. Interpretation was not the best tool to decipher long lost cyphers and stories. But as Nigel and Sydney delve deeper into this particular legend, personal interpretation is likely the only thing that might save their lives.

 **Disclaimer:** This is a fan-fiction story of the TV show; Relic Hunter and is in no way affiliated with the actual show. All characters and other materials related to the show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant. However, any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0 as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.

 **Authors Note:** Chapter One is here. Hope you liked my prologue and prelude. This is the first full chapter. Please excuse the obvious modernisation of the show. I felt like writing a fan-fiction, but I could not get my mindset to go back before smartphones, 5G, and Wi-Fi. It was very confusing. I am hopefully going to continue with a fairly decent pace of updating this one but please don't hold your breath. I have been known to take a few years to update some fiction works before. Please be assured, I will finish the story, it just might not be until I'm in my 90's. (for reference, I'm 32 atm).

Let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any constructive criticism to make please do it _politely_. There is no reason to be rude and insulting when you disagree or don't like other's works of fiction.

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 _Trinity College, St. George Campus, Toronto USA_

The sound of a large stack of papers hitting the sturdy oak desk at the front of the lecture hall echoed across the variety of students who sat in the stalls, waiting with nervous bated breath. You could hear a pin drop.

"The results for your finals for this semester are in." The authoritative voice of one Professor Sydney Fox was loud and unreadable. No one could discern from her tone or her facial expression what her thoughts were on the subject. Did they do well? Did they flunk terribly? Was it a pass? Or a fail? The tension hung tentatively in the air.

"I gotta say guys… I don't know what to think right now." She continued after a sigh. Her shoulders slumped a little. No one noticed the small twitch of her lip as she turned to look down at the stack of papers that she had dumped on to the desk seconds before. No one, except her very attentive TA.

Said TA, one Nigel Bailey, was trying very hard to keep his face devoid of emotion too but had to subtly hide his grins behind a well-timed cough, or a book he'd picked up to 'study'. He was fast losing his cool.

Sydney gave him a teasing grin, her face turned away from her captive audience. She could see Nigel's valiant attempts to keep the bluff going but he had never been a very good poker player. The man just did not know how _not_ to wear his heart on his sleeve.

She decided to end his misery.

She turned back to her students, paused, then gave a massive, heart winning grin. "You all passed!"

Whoops and cheers erupted from the stalls and some even threw pens in the air, along with other small study paraphernalia in celebration. It wasn't exactly good college protocol, but they'd worked so hard these past few months that Sydney decided to let it slide. She would have to apologise to the janitor later.

"Alright, settle down." She called out, watching as the last of the cheers died away to happy murmurs and congratulations across the seats. "As you know, the next module is the last module set before your exam weeks start. So, I want you to take this spring break as run up into the next course subject. I've listed the criteria for the next course on the student portal. I want you to have a look into the modules and get a basic understanding of what you'll be studying next term." She explained as she handed the stacks of papers to the closest student to her end of the stalls. The students were familiar with the task of finding their own papers from the pile and then handing the pile to the next student.

Some bright spark at the back had already decided to check out the student portal on his smartphone though, while he waited for the pile to reach him. "It says here our next curriculum is 'Lost Civilisations,' does this mean you will be sharing some of your 'extra curricula activities' with the class as study material?" He asked with a cheeky but hopeful grin. The boy was a smart egg, one of her most promising students and he had quite the personality to go with his smarts too. Charming, and intelligent. He never lost the beat.

Sydney had to give him credit. She shook her head in amused defeat. "Maybe." Was all she said, and predictably, the class erupted with glee and anticipation again. It was no secret; the adventures that Sydney and Nigel had been on in-between ( _and sometimes, during_ ) classes and semesters were quite the gossip trend among the student body. She had kept details to a minimum though during classes and when she was cornered outside of classes, she kept to the basic facts that the journalism society had printed, thus giving nothing new away. Nigel had also been forced to learn the art of minimal descriptions. He was tragically bad at it though and would get tripped up very quickly by a random question, so he had diverted tactics and managed to master the art of avoidance and artful retreat instead.

It was understandable then, that when she had revealed that little hint, that the excitement in the class would rocket.

"But it won't just be limited to what Nigel and I have covered in our 'extra curricula activities' as you so eloquently put it. The course is separated into two sets of modules. The first part has a set list of civilisations that we need to cover." Sydney began again, the class settling down at the sound of her voice. She paused for a moment before revealing the next bit that she just knew would set them off again. "And in the second part, you get to pick…" She did not get to finish her sentence as the cheers started up again. She just knew they would be bombarding her with questions and queries for months on end now but in spite of that, she could not fight the smile that crept up on her lips. Their excitement was contagious. She gave Nigel a quick grin, which he returned with a playful eye-roll.

"Alright, settle down guys. We've got at least a month before then. I want you to familiarise yourselves with what's on the list set by the course administrators and then write a list of a few ancient civilisations that you want to study in the second part of the semester. You only have three blank spaces on the second part of the course." She said giving the class a 'pay attention' look over the rim of her glasses. "So, choose wisely." She added with another grin before her students all started talking at once at her. She shook her head in amusement before collecting her binders from the desk, signalling that she was done talking for now, no matter how much they crooned for more.

"What about civilisations that border on myth and fact?" Someone called out. A hush fell across the room as both professors paused their movements, the students sensing that the question had caught their mentor's attention. The voice was the same boy who'd asked the question that started this whole fiasco. Sydney, her back to the students now, gave Nigel a curious frown. He also frowned in confusion.

"By which you mean…?" He queried for her, allowing her to keep her authority over the crowd while gaining insight to the query.

"Well, the likes of Albion, or Atlantis… they're borderline fact and fiction." The boy replied. A few murmurs whispered in the crowd but otherwise waited for their response.

"The course relies heavily on producing _factual_ evidence, Mr Grahams." Sydney replied as she turned with her files in her hands. Nigel stood up behind her, his things in his satchel, ready to leave also. "If you can find evidence to use in your studies of Atlantis, or Albion, or even Never-Never land, then I'm sure you'll pass." She said with a smirk as she left the lecture hall, Nigel hot on her tail. The hall erupted into loud conversations in their wake.

"You are aware that there is factual evidence of Atlantis having existed, aren't you?" Nigel asked when they were a suitable distance from the rabble of students that had flowed out of the hall after them. Sydney just scoffed though.

"Atlantis was just a story made up by a desperate philosopher hoping to caution the people of his time against advanced science and machinery." Sydney replied with a dismissive tone as they approached the Ancient Studies office. "It was a cautionary tale to prevent the likes of Confucius, or Pythagoras from creating widespread panic with new ways of thinking that could upset the status quo of the time period. _And_ , to appease the king of Athens on the day of Athena." She continued as she opened the door and made her way to her segregated inner office. She turned to face him though before moving past her door. The final piece of her argument primed a ready. "Besides, the 'facts' are open to too many interpretations and with only flimsy evidence to back it up with. Plato was renowned and respected as an academic and a philosopher, but his story of Atlantis, was just that; a story." She finished and disappeared into her office.

Nigel, however, was not easily convinced by her argument. "That may be one way to look at it, but there are sites that also counter those views." He began and stood himself against her door frame. "The Island of Malta for one." He continued, "Recent deep dives have shown how the island was once a lot bigger that it currently is. Somehow it sank into the sea – is that not how Plato described Atlantis?" he asked, but it was apparently a rhetorical question, for he forged on again. "There are temples leading almost halfway to Italy under water. This suggests that the Mediterranean Sea was not always as big as or as deep as it is today. Wouldn't that account for the 'great wave' in Plato's 'story' too?" He asked, his excitement on the topic clearly showing.

Sydney watched his features as they lit up when he spoke of the tale and the evidence that he felt was undeniable. She loved that he could not contain his enthusiasm about the past and historical artefacts. Hunting alone and with the company she sometimes kept, had dulled the adventures to something of a chore. The men she took to bed were just distractions she had disguised in her mind as love, but were really just opportunities she taken advantage of to disrupt the mundaneness of the job. But hunting and working with Nigel had helped her fall in love with the history and the magic of the past all over again. His eager excitement, and the knowledge he possessed of all kinds of history had become contagious and enticing. She found herself feeling academically motivated to reacquaint herself with the more intimate details of the stories, those that were not pertinent to the hunt in general. Little tid-bits of random information that had no bearing on the finding of the artefact but were still so fascinating to learn about. Working with Nigel had definitely been an eye opener. And it had not faded at all.

"Did those temples have a sign saying, 'Welcome to Atlantis' on them?" She teased while booting up her laptop as she sat herself down at her desk. It was a little cramped in the room, but it was cosy, and it was home to her. She could see that the size of her office had the opposite effect on her TA though. Nigel never had been fond of small spaces.

"No one knows what it says, but there is a whole wall of writing on one of the temple's inner sanctums. The photos of which are listed in the London Historic archives. There's a display of them due next week." Nigel replied, and suddenly Sydney felt she knew why Nigel had instigated the conversation about Atlantis.

"And you were hoping for some time off to go see them?" She asked with a knowing grin.

"Well, I…" He started, paused, saw her grin, and knew suddenly that she was teasing him. "Oh, you evil sod." He bemoaned with an air of fake disdain. Sydney barked out a laugh at his British insult. "Yes," he confirmed with a huff and a glare that he did not mean. "I would like to see them."

"I'm sorry Nige, you're just too easy to wind up." Sydney apologised. "I'll be happy to sign you off some holiday time. You've certainly earned it these past few weeks." She said as she typed in her password, the laptop having finally connected to the university's servers. Nigel gave her a thankful grin before moving over to his own desk.

"Thanks Syd." He called over as he sat himself down on his own chair and fired up the laptop he had pillaged from Tech when his previous one had greeted him with errors left and right. He pulled his phone out of the lockable drawer while he waited for it to wake up and load. He frowned as he found one new message on the screen. From his brother. He inwardly groaned to himself. What could the grumpy old fart want now?

" _Podge!_ " Nigel somehow kept his growl of irritation to himself. " _I won't dispense with pleasantries_." Nigel's frown deepened. Preston loved wordplay. Dispensing with pleasantries meant he was trying to be serious. Nigel's attention was now riveted. " _I've just been brutally accosted by interrogators of the night_." So much for dispensing of wordplay. If Preston was able to send a text message after the event, then Nigel doubted the incident was as dire as he made it sound. " _Rather alarming in appearance but bade me no bodily harm_." Nigel's suspicions confirmed. Typical Preston vocabulary. " _They were however, asking after mother's baubles and gems though, asking if one particular gemstone stood out among the rest. None sprang to mind, and I said as much. They were American which prompted me to think of you. If they found me all the way over here in good old Brittany, I'm sure they'll be on your tail too_. _Say hello to our dearest Ms. Fox for me. Goodnight, Pres._ "

Nigel found himself a little concerned. Teasing tone aside, what Preston had just told him _was_ alarming. A group of strangers, American by origin, were looking for a special gem that his mother might have had in her possession. These strangers had also gone to great lengths to track and locate his older brother only to interrogate him in the middle of the night.

He quickly checked the time of the message. England was five hours ahead of Toronto, USA. Midnight over there, would have been seven pm here, last night. But there had not been any messages on his phone this morning. He would have known; he always checks his phone each morning. So why has it only just arrived if his brother had sent it last night? He made a mental note to phone his service provider to find out later. For now, he just focused on the strange message again. " _They were however, asking after mother's baubles and gems though, asking if one particular gemstone stood out among the rest."_ Translating from posh Preston speech, that meant that these strangers were looking for a precious stone that his mother may have worn as a jewellery piece. Preston would not have known about it, but there was one necklace piece that stood out in Nigel's memory. It was an old, pewter based pendant that opened to hold a small 'glow-in-the-dark' plastic ball. It had a black thong in place of a dainty chain and had clearly seen better days. It was not a precious gem or a particularly expensive piece of jewellery, but his mother had said it was the most precious thing she owned.

Preston would not have even classed it as anything worth noting so it would not occur to him to mention it. But there was another reason too.

Nigel thumbed the black, well-worn thong hanging around his neck. His mother had gifted it to him on the very last birthday he had had before she had died. Ordinarily it would sit in his sock drawer at home; the glow would keep him up at night if he left it on his dresser. But with the anniversary of his parent's deaths looming closer, he felt a sentimental pull to the necklace like nothing he had ever felt before. It prompted him to put the necklace on a few days ago and he had not removed it since.

But why would anyone want a cheap, pewter based, plastic glowing necklace? It made little sense.

Nigel decided that it probably was not the necklace they were after, and that he would deal with the strangers as and when they turned up in his life. But, because he is not too ashamed to admit he was a little scared and uneasy about the possible encounter, he also decided to fill Sydney on the details too.

"That's a little creepy." Sydney said as Nigel finished telling her about the text message and showing the time stamp to her on his phone. He neglected to include his initial suspicions about the pewter necklace because it seemed silly now that he thought about it. "Did you mother have a necklace like that?" She asked, handing back his phone to him. Nigel shrugged.

"Not that I would consider interrogating over. She favoured the one she was buried in but its still available at any jewellers in the UK. The only other one that stood out to me was this one." He said as he pulled the pewter necklace out from under his shirt to show her. "Its just a cheap, glow in the dark plastic ball, though." He added. Sydney scrutinised the necklace for a moment before shaking her head.

"It's a lovely piece but its as you say; nothing to go 'ninja-in-the-night' over." She agreed. She paused though and pursed her lips. Nigel knew she was thinking about his holiday request and weighing the risks of letting him out of her sight. Sure enough, she had something to say about it. "I don't like the idea of you going to England alone next week." She said, and Nigel rolled his eyes at her.

"I haven't booked the tickets yet but I'm sure I can squeeze you in my suitcase." He teased, already knowing that she was offering to travel with him.

"I've no doubt," she said with a grin. "But I'd rather be safe than sorry. You don't mind me tagging along?" She asked. It was pointless to say yes, even if he did mind because Sydney would not back down anyway. But in all honesty, he did not mind the idea of her company on the trip.

"As long as you don't snore on the plane." He said with a smirk and ducked away from her office door before she could throw the pencil that she had in her hand at him. He heard it hit the wall behind him and chuckled at the display.

"You owe me a new pencil, Mr Bailey!" She called out from her office and he chuckled again just as Karen walked in with three coffees and some sandwiches from the cafeteria. Nigel's stomach rumbled at the sight and for a few moments, lunch was all that was on his mind.


End file.
